Bullseye
by ladymarycrawley
Summary: Mary has to learn archery, Matthew helps... story hopefully better than the summary! Set Series One, probably between bench flirting and the kiss
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

It was a clear spring morning and the Crawley family were sat around the breakfast table. Lady Grantham had a letter in her hand and was smiling with a certain amount of satisfaction.

"Mary, darling," she began, "I've asked Sir Timothy Spencer to stay with us for a time and he has expressed an intention to get to know you better," said Cora, trying not to appear too obvious in her plans for her daughter.

"Oh Mama, really? Must you always be trying to sell me off to some dreary old bachelor?" Mary exclaimed, rolling her expressive dark brown eyes.

"You have to marry _someone_, Mary! This summer will be your fourth season in society and it's really high time you were settled, with your own establishment."

Robert raised his head from his newspaper and interjected.

"Cora, isn't Spencer that terrible old bore who leered at the girls at the Devonshire's ball last year? He hardly seems an ideal match for Mary, my dear. And besides, he must be nearly fifty!"

The Countess shot him her most scathing look. "Sir Timothy is a very respectable man, Robert. Must I remind you that he owns the Sandsbury estate in Hampshire and is in line to inherit the title from the Duke of Suffolk?"

Robert raised his eyebrows, coughed and buried his head in his newspaper once more.

Cora continued. "Anyway Mary, it appears that Sir Timothy is very fond of archery, so I've asked Carson to set up the range for a small tournament for a few people whilst he is here."

"Excellent! If he is to be part of a sporting party, I won't have to see much of him!" Mary returned, trying unsuccessfully to keep the joy from creeping into her voice.

"Really, Mary, must you always be so contrary! Of course you must be part of the tournament and you have to shine," said the Countess, a steely quality now entering her voice. "You are to practise this afternoon."

Edith let out an unkind snigger. "But Mary is a terrible archer, Mama! Do you remember when she shot the gardener in the l..."

"That's quite enough, Edith," snapped the Countess. "I'm sure that with practise, Mary will be quite perfect. I would like you to go down to the range after luncheon and practise for at least two hours."

Mary groaned and began to retaliate but was silenced by a firm glare from her mother. "Oh... very well Mama, as you are so insistent. But really, I..."

"Enough, Mary! You are to be charm itself when Sir Timothy arrives and he will be so taken with you and your archery prowess, that he will fall in love with you."

Edith smirked as Mary grumbled and was swiftly rewarded by a hard kick from Mary under the table. "At least I have some men who want me! When was the last time any suitors came for you!" Pleased with her remark and infuriated by constantly being paraded "for sale" in front of eligible men, Mary stood up and swept from the room with icy hauteur.

**CHAPTER TWO**

Matthew had finished his work at the firm early and had been lolling about the house with nothing to do but wait until an inevitably awkward dinner at Downton in the evening. He was sick of reading and his mother had business at the hospital to attend to.

"Why don't you go for a walk, Matthew?" suggested his mother on her way out, busily gathering her nursing things together. "The woods around Downton are so lovely at this time of year."

Matthew took up her suggestion with a smile. "Do you know, Mother, I think I will."

He shrugged on his black coat and donned his hat and set off towards the woods surrounding the Abbey. The woodland appeared completely deserted and he smiled at the solitude and quietness. The crocuses and snowdrops were in full bloom and as he paced through the ancient woods, he felt at peace in the tranquil atmosphere. He walked for a little longer and he noticed a periodic thud come from nearby. Matthew walked towards the noise and then, through the trees, he noticed Lady Mary, bow and arrow poised to shoot. He watched her for a little while, enjoying the luxury of observing her alone, her muscles taut and her face strained in concentration. She let a few arrows go in quick succession, but was utterly unsuccessful in shooting anywhere near the target. As she released another arrow into a nearby tree, he couldn't help letting out a soft chuckle. Mary turned around like a shot, her nostrils flared in indignation and she felt herself blushing as she realised he had been watching her.

"And what is so funny, may I ask, Cousin Matthew?" Mary said, glaring at the intruder.

"Well... it's just..." Matthew stammered, deeply embarrassed at having been caught by his laughter, but still smiling.

"What!"

"You really are a dreadful archer, Mary," he began apologetically. He grinned and continued, "I suppose you'll say I'm not a gentleman for saying it."

By this time, Mary was seething with anger, at him and at herself for allowing anyone to see she was not accomplished and elegant in all things. She thrust the bow and arrow towards him and demanded,

"Well. As you seem to know so much about it, you can show me how good you are!"

Mary assumed he would never have had an opportunity to pick up a bow and arrow in his life and felt a sense of triumph in embarrassing him. To her dismay, he took off his coat and jacket, hung them on a branch and took the bow from her hands, fixing an arrow to the string of the bow and took his stance. Mary felt herself losing the upper hand rapidly and she felt her colour deepen as she noticed for the first time the strength in his arms and torso, the muscles highlighted by the tightness of his thin white shirt.

Matthew released the arrow and it hit the bullseye with a resounding _thwack._ Mary let out an involuntary moan of frustration as he turned around with an infuriating smile on his face, his brilliant blue eyes sparking with fun.

Mary was almost rendered speechless in her annoyance. "Matthew Crawley, you really are the most... the most..." she struggled.

"Talented gentleman?" suggested Matthew with a cheeky smile, eyebrows raised questioningly.

"That was _not_ precisely what I had in mind!" Mary returned, her annoyance quickly ebbing away as she noticed his handsome features lit up when he smiled at her.

"Why don't I help you?" asked Matthew, his smile wavering as he looked at her face, her delicate features slightly flushed, with those deep, dark chocolate eyes and he became ever more aware that they were entirely alone.

Mary took her stance and Matthew stood behind her so that his body was pressed close against her back. Her breath quickened slightly as she tried to stay cool and calm, but she could feel the hard outline of his muscular body against hers and her heart began to pound. He lightly pushed her right arm a little further down and his left hand curled softly around hers on the smooth wood of the bow. She jolted slightly at this skin to skin contact and felt warmer and warmer as she felt his hot breath tickling the back of her neck. His whole body was now encircling her as he helped her achieve the correct stance; his heart was beating hard with the new intimacy of the situation and he tried to remain clear headed as he murmured in her ear, "Now, release..."

The arrow flew straight to the heart of the target and overcome with joy and pride, Mary smiled one of her rare devastating smiles. Matthew was delighted for her and as she turned around to thank him, they found themselves gazing into one another's eyes quite by accident. Matthew realised that his arm was still curled around her, but looking into her eyes, he found that he didn't want to release her. Mary tried to re-establish a sense of normality by saying "Why, thank you Cousin Matthew!" But her throat felt constricted as her eyes flickered down to his full lips. They began to sway towards each other as if guided by an invisible force and as Matthew bent down and lightly pressed his lips to hers, she let out a sigh of contentment. Any thought Matthew had of controlling himself was dissolved in that sigh. He wrapped his arm tightly around her waist, desperate to be closer to her and the flicker of surprise in Mary's eyes quickly faded as his tongue flicked into her mouth, wiping all coherent thoughts from her mind. He tilted her head back and the kiss deepened further and further until she felt she could bear the pleasurable sensations he invoked in her no longer. She felt pleasantly helpless in his strong grasp and she gave herself up to the kiss, delving her fingers into his sleek blonde hair and pressing herself closer to him. He could feel the soft swell of her breast against him and he ached to know her more, to do more to her, but he knew he had to pull away before he became utterly helpless against the hypnotic power she had over him. As he slowly pulled back from the kiss, she elicited a soft moan of desire and disappointment.

"Mary, we must stop..." His voice was deep and hoarse with arousal as he looked at her, flushed and dishevelled.

"Must we, indeed?" she inquired, raising one eyebrow. She moved in nearer and nearer to his face, he closed his eyes, feeling her breath on his lips.

"Well, if you think that's best... I'll see you at dinner." He opened his eyes in surprise as she shot him a tormenting sensual look, looking up through her thick lashes and giving a provocative smile. She walked away, skirts swaying, with Matthew staring after her longingly, mouth slightly open in awe at what they had just done. He was certainly looking forward to dinner at the Abbey tonight now.


	2. Chapter 2

As Mary examined herself in the mirror that evening, for the first time in her life she found fault with what she saw. In her eyes, her hairstyle didn't curl correctly, her dress seemed old fashioned and she wished she had the searingly blue Crawley eyes to lighten her face. She turned her head from left to right and groaned with dissatisfaction. Why did she care? She rang the bell for Anna and the maid promptly arrived in Mary's dressing room.

"Yes, milady?"

"Do we have time for me to change into the red silk, Anna?" Mary said with an almost panicked look in her eye.

Anna raised an eyebrow, saying "You'll be late for dinner milady, but not too late," and swiftly got to work unlacing Mary from her black dress and helping her on with the new red silk gown, daringly low cut and perfectly fitting her tall, willowy figure. Mary surveyed herself again in the full length looking glass, this time with a great deal more satisfaction. She dabbed on some scent and smiled, a gentle pink suffusing her cheeks with the anticipation of seeing Matthew in mere moments. The memory of his touches was still burned into her skin and his kiss... Mary gave a shy smile at herself in the mirror and made her way down to dinner.

Matthew had made his way into the entrance hall where he was warmly greeted by Robert and Cora as well as Edith and Sybil. His mind immediately began racing. Where was Mary? Perhaps his forward behaviour had offended her in some way and she couldn't bear to see him? His heart sank at the thought and all the trivial conversation in the hall passed utterly over his head. Suddenly, as Matthew was torturing himself with these thoughts, Robert turned around and exclaimed,

"Mary, darling, there you are! I could hear Carson beginning to panic that the first course would be cold! We'd better go straight in."

At his words, Matthew span around and there she was, a vision in deep red floating down the stairs. He stared at her; she was an utter goddess and he marvelled at how he could ever have thought her otherwise. Her dress clung to her in ways that set his mind racing with inappropriate thoughts. If she looked this tempting _in_ the dress...Matthew shook himself. As she descended, he wanted to throw himself at her feet and worship her as she deserved. The others turned and began to depart for the dining room but Matthew stood rooted to the spot, his heart in his mouth.

Mary found she couldn't meet his eyes and she walked softly past him with a gentle smile; he breathed in the trail of scent she left in her wake and quickly followed her into dinner.

"Matthew, do sit here," implored the Earl, gesturing to a seat between him and Mary. Hardly able to believe his good luck, Matthew took his seat. "I wanted to ask you some questions about the laws regarding..." Matthew could barely concentrate on what the Earl was saying; the mere inches between him and Mary seemed now to be charged with fierce electricity with no outlet to diffuse it and he swore he could feel the warmth emanating from her body. He ached to touch her; he gulped and tried desperately to concentrate on Robert's questioning on agricultural law, nodding periodically, hoping this would suffice.

His legal grilling finally over, Matthew was at liberty to cast fleeting looks at Mary, trying to be as discreet as possible. Her hair pulled elegantly back, her long creamy white neck was exposed and he imagined himself trailing a row of white hot kisses from her collarbone to the vulnerable skin behind her ears. He reluctantly dragged himself from this sensual reverie and for the second time that day, their eyes met and something stirred inside them that neither could explain. He could bear it no longer; under the table, his hand searched for hers and as he clasped it, lacing his fingers tenderly through hers, she gave a barely audible gasp which she tried to mask by taking a sip of wine from the crystal glass.

As his fingers began caressing hers, Mary attempted to maintain a cool, calm exterior, whilst becoming aware that she was beginning to flush from her face to her chest. Her breathing deepened and her corset suddenly seemed inhumanly tight. His large hand surrounded her small one, smoothly running his fingers over her knuckles. Mary took another gulp of wine to cover her burgeoning exhilaration.

"Mary?"

She was jolted into the real world with a bump.

"Yes, Mama?" Mary replied, her voice a little too high, her reply a little too fast. Matthew still didn't let her go; his fingers still trailing tantalisingly softly over her hand.

"How did your archery practise go today, darling?" The Countess placed a morsel of food in her mouth and waited for her eldest daughters reply.

"Very well, I think!"

"Yes, I happened upon Mary's practise and with a little help, she was practically a professional!" gushed Matthew, quickly snapping his mouth shut before he said too much.

"Oh, you were there, Matthew?" The Countess gave a small frown of disapproval. She did not want Mary getting on too well with young Mr Crawley when there were bigger fish to fry. "She didn't mention it."

Under the table, Matthew's hand gripped hers fractionally more tightly. His jaw slightly clenched as he replied as politely as possible; "Really..."

"Well, I'm sure you were a great help anyway, Cousin Matthew. You know Sir Timothy Spencer is coming tomorrow evening and he is so fond of archery. His father, the Duke of Suffolk, is very fond of it too..." Cora smiled insincerely at Matthew.

"No, I was not aware that you were expecting company, Lady Grantham."

He was well aware of what the Countess was insinuating and he abruptly dropped Mary's hand. He stared at his plate, missing the look of hurt and surprise on Mary's lovely face as he so carelessly relinquished her hand and ceased the affectionate caresses that had stirred so many deliciously confusing thoughts in her mind.

After dinner, the ladies and the Earl adjourned to the drawing room for tea. Matthew and Mary were the last ones left in the dining room and as he stood to leave, a look of resentment in his eyes, Mary pulled on his arm and with extreme difficulty, choked out, "Matthew, please..."

He turned and saw her chocolate brown eyes brimming with tears. He had never seen this vulnerable side of Mary before and he felt tenderness for her then. But the memory of Cora's words still whirled round and round in his mind; Mary didn't, couldn't feel anything for him, she was destined for this Sir Timothy. Their glorious afternoon together now seemed marred by the fact that she was practising archery to impress another man. He looked up at her and with one last look of hurt and wounded pride, he was gone. As the door closed with an ominous note of finality, the tears ran freely in rivers down Mary's cheeks.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 4**

The day of Cora's tournament dawned clear and bright, a perfect English spring morning. Sir Timothy had arrived the night before and although it was true that he was not everything she would have wished for Mary, it was undeniable that his breeding, as well as his financial standing, was impeccable. She _did _wish that he wouldn't peer so obviously at Mary through his spectacles; Robert had given her some insufferably "I-told-you-so" looks throughout the evening. O'Brien came in and interrupted her daydreaming by opening the curtains and setting the breakfast tray down over her knees.

"Thank you, O'Brien. It seems like the perfect weather for the tournament today, don't you think?"

"Indeed, milady. Sir Timothy ought to enjoy himself," she replied with a small smirk; the servants quarters had been abuzz last evening with the news of the new arrivals behaviour at dinner.

Mary had dragged herself out of bed that morning, careless of how she looked, selecting an old grey dress to wear. She dismissed Anna before her hair was properly styled, saying she would finish it herself. More than anything, she just wanted to be alone, away from prying eyes. She hadn't seen Matthew for two days and the last look he gave her made her heart painful with the memory of it. She thought of the duty she must now perform in entertaining Sir Timothy when all she could do was torment herself over and over again with thoughts of Matthew and what he must now think of her. The previous evening at dinner had been almost unbearable; Sir Timothy was an insufferable bore, two years older than her own father and with an unmistakable smell of mothballs. He had blatantly stared at her in a grossly improper manner throughout the evening, seldom troubling himself with looking up at her face. Even worse than his drifting eye line had been the way he always ate with his mouth open, the occasional small fleck of food dropping from his mouth onto the tablecloth. Remembering this, Mary shuddered with disgust and made her way down to breakfast, where she found her father and sisters staring at Sir Timothy in amazement as he devoured a heaped plateful of bacon.

"Ah, good morning, Lady Mary," he exclaimed, a little bacon grease running down his chin which he promptly licked off.

Mary closed her eyes for a fraction of a second and took a slight breath in through her nostrils in her attempt to compose herself.

"Good morning, Sir Timothy," she returned, in her most icily polite tone.

**Chapter 5**

The archery was a great success and Mary had shone as Cora had wanted. The young men of the county, as well as Sir Timothy, were captivated by her great beauty and skill, although they had been left slightly disappointed by her detached manner. Matthew's presence had made Mary's heart ache with sadness, but she was determined as ever to keep up the facade of being the most charming, elegant woman in the assembled party. Matthew sat sulkily in a chair with the old men and their wives, looking ridiculously out of place when all the other bachelors were shooting in the competition. Mary was surrounded by suitors and her smile made him fill with jealousy; if she was happy with the company of these other men, then why should he care? Matthew slipped away from the group and went for a walk in the grounds to try to sooth his anger before he had to dine again at Downton that evening. He had not noticed the insincerity of her society smile or seen her mask crack momentarily on a few occasions when she caught a glimpse of him with his face like thunder.

Sir Timothy came over to Mary whilst mopping his forehead with his handkerchief, slightly moist from his exertions. "Lady Mary, now that the archery is over, would you care to give me a tour of the gardens?"

Mary desperately searched her mind for any possible excuse, but in her panic, her mind turned blank and she fell into step with him. Sir Timothy walked far too closely to her, his clammy hand occasionally, disgustingly bumping against hers. Her discomfort increased when he began to walk down towards a secluded part of the garden far from the house. She walked with him, trying to divert him with banal chat when, without warning, he turned his red, sweaty face to her and roughly pressed his lips to hers, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. His cloying scent was suffocating her and she tried to scream, but using his great weight against her, he pushed her up against a hedge and stifled her screams with his mouth.

Matthew had been angrily pacing the grounds for some time trying to cool his temper. He felt a little more composed now that he had had some fresh air and exercise and he decided to return to the house to make an appropriate excuse for his abrupt departure. On his return, he heard, inexplicably, a woman's scream. He quickly walked towards where the noise was coming from, thinking perhaps that a girl from the village had been accosted by one of the gypsies camping outside Downton Village. As he turned the corner, his blood boiled at the sight that met his eyes. Sir Timothy had trapped Mary, _his_ Mary and was pressing his face on hers, pawing at her breasts with his clumsy hands. Matthew was so fast in getting to them, his feet didn't seem to touch the ground. He grabbed Sir Timothy's shoulder and span him around.

"What's your problem, Crawley?" Sir Timothy sneered, a thin trail of saliva hanging from the corner of his mouth.

"My problem is you," Matthew snarled and punched him full in his flabby, pompous face. Sir Timothy fell down hard, blood gushing from his nose and lay on the floor knocked out cold. Mary began to sob, tears gushing down her face. Still seething with anger, Matthew came up to her.

"What on earth was happening?" he demanded.

Frightened by Matthew's expression, Mary managed to cough out, "He forced me...I tried to scream but... he was too strong for me..." With that she burst in to heart wrenching sobs again. Matthew's heart melted at the sight and, wrapping his arms around her, he held her tight while she wept copious tears onto his chest. As he held her, he stroked her silky, dark hair, trying to soothe her. Matthew still shook with rage whilst he murmured soft shh-ing sounds into her ear and under his breath whispered, "Oh, my darling..."

She felt so safe now that Matthew was here; in his arms, she felt as though nothing and no one could ever hurt her again. She pulled away from him slightly and tried to explain Cora's plan which had so wounded his pride. "Matthew...I...I never wanted h..."

He lightly placed a finger on her lips to stop her. "You don't have to say anything, Mary..." The way he whispered her name sent tingles down her spine. He tenderly brushed the tears from her smooth cheeks, her tear stained face looking even more exquisite in its vulnerability. He felt as though he was drowning in her eyes but as he slowly bent his head down to her, Sir Timothy began to stir, spitting out one of his teeth on to the pebbled path. Matthew reluctantly pulled back, rose up to his full height and stood in front of Mary, anxious to protect her from this odious specimen.

"You will leave at once and never return, do you understand me? How _dare_ you treat a lady in such a way? I will be informing the Earl at once of your disgraceful conduct," Matthew uttered through gritted teeth in a voice that simultaneously frightened and thrilled Mary. Sir Timothy protested half heartedly as Matthew marched him roughly back to the house and presented him, blood still streaming without restraint from his nose, to the appalled Earl.

"Good God! What on earth happened to Sir Timothy?" Mary then entered, her hair coming loose and her eyes red from crying. Robert stared in amazement. "And to Mary?"

"I'm afraid the story is not a pleasant one, sir. Perhaps Mary should go and lie down and I'll explain everything," replied Matthew, voice still slightly unsteady with rage.

Mary gave Matthew one last alluring look as she left the room, quenching the tide of anger roaring inside him.


End file.
